


All I Want for Christmas

by CiderWriter (orphan_account)



Series: Christmas [2]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Charles in a Wheelchair, Charles is a Professor, Erik has Issues, M/M, Poor Erik, Post Beach Divorce, Post X-Men: First Class, Protective Erik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 07:54:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8741383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/CiderWriter
Summary: DAY 3 of Christmas Countdown:Through her eyes, he saw himself – pale and sweaty, shaking still from his nightmare. It wasn’t a nightmare though, really. A memory taken in abstract. He didn’t need to delve deeper into her mind to know he’d probably been projecting- she sounded resigned when she next spoke. “The beach, again?” Raven and Erik returned to the mansion months ago, but everything has changed. Charles takes a reflective midnight breather, and is joined by a concerned Erik, fed up of the endless tension.





	

He was lying, propped up in the arms of the man he loved. His left arm was laying at his side and he grasped at the ground beneath him, collecting a handful of sand in his loose grip. It slipped out between his fingers, pouring back onto the beach they lay on. It was gritty and stung the small cuts on his hands, but he knew it wasn’t real. It was falling too slowly, like the sand in a timer. This couldn’t be real, anyway, because that helmet was on Erik’s head and he could no longer feel that beautiful mind. Instead, there was just a void. A deafening silence where otherwise should have been love and rage and joy and hurt; a mix of emotions that never quite left Erik.

“What on earth made you think that I would stay?” Erik’s voice was a dark growl, mocking and cruel. His eyes were glittering with utter disdain, and suddenly he wasn’t holding Charles anymore. He was gone.

* * *

“Charles!” He opened his eyes to a room to bright and a sister, too panicked. He screwed his eyes shut again, reaching a hand up to block the light.

“Jesus, Raven, what time is it?”  It was too bright, still and cold- freezing in the winter night air.

“Just gone two.” She replied, not sounding any less panicked despite his nonchalance. Through her eyes, he saw himself – pale and sweaty, shaking still from his nightmare. It wasn’t a nightmare though, really. A memory taken in abstract. He didn’t need to delve deeper into her mind to know he’d probably been projecting- she sounded resigned when she next spoke. “The beach, again?”

“Hm?” He flicked his eyes open once more, raising his arm to Raven for her to sit under and snuggle into his side. It was almost like nothing had changed, and he was just a grad student again about to recite his thesis to his sister. Of course, everything had changed and Raven was at his side more for his comfort than hers. “Oh, yes.” He murmured. “The beach. It didn’t take long to realise it was a dream tonight though. It wasn’t so bad.”

“You say that, but Jean woke up crying.” He didn’t miss the reprimanding tone she offered him. Even after Cuba, when Hank and Moira pandered to him, Raven never let him get away with anything.

“Oh dear.” He frowned, thinking about Jean. The eight-year-old had been one of their first students when he and the others opened the school the previous year, without Raven and Erik. Despite the blocks he’d placed on her telepathy – for her own sake – she still picked up on the general thoughts and feelings in the house. “Is she alright?” He asked, despite the fact his mind was already reaching out to hers, hoping to soothe her, to appease his own guilt as much as it was to help her.

“Hank went to her. She likes his blue fur.” Raven smiled lightly. As she spoke, he could feel the easy slumber of Jean, Hank already retreating back down the corridor to his bedroom.

“She isn’t the only one, I think?” He teased lightly, kissing the top of her head even as she gently punched his ribs. “Oh hush, Raven. I want you to be happy. You’re beautiful and he’s a fool if he doesn’t see it.”

“He’s a fool either way. Besides, it’s not up to me. He still hasn’t forgiven me, I don’t think.” She sighed, dragging herself up from the bed. “Do you need anything, or can I go back to bed?”

“I’m fine, go.” He lied easily. He was thirsty, frankly, and he hated himself for wishing it had been Erik to come and soothe him. “Goodnight, Raven.”

She bid her own goodnight and departed, closing the door behind her. He pushed back bittersweet memories of the metal handle dragging the door shut; of Erik pressing him against the back of it and kissing his neck like he needed it to survive. Erik had made it perfectly clear that he couldn’t be with Charles that way since the incident in Cuba.

They had kissed once, afterwards, when they were both back; Charles from the hospital and Erik from wherever he’d been since Cuba. It had been desperate and messy and beautiful, and over far too soon. Erik seemed to realise what he was doing and dragged himself away, staring at him for one broken moment. He’d been breathing hard and his face was flushed, but his eyes had looked like molten steel. He regretted it, deeply. He was ashamed of himself for doing it. As soon as Charles had seen that it in his head, he resolved to actively stay away from Erik. He wouldn’t send him away; he never could. But it would be better for Charles’ sanity if he didn’t pay much attention to Erik anymore.

It occurred to Charles rather quickly that he wasn’t going to get back to sleep tonight. After a great deal of mental preparation, he moved into his wheelchair and went into his en-suite for a drink. Splashing cold water on his face did little to soothe him; he still felt shaky from the nightmare. He shouldn’t really- logically he knew that. He had the nightmare at least once a month.

He didn’t bother getting dressed. Cold though it was, it was invigorating after the false heat of Cuba in his dreams- the unbearably scorching sun and sweaty suit, clinging to his wounds. He left his room and wheeled down the corridor near silently, breaths finally evening out. He considered visiting the children’s wings and checking on them, but it didn’t even take a moment to sweep his mind across them to see they were all safe and sleeping deeply; visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads. It was a blessing they were asleep at all, given the excitement of the approaching Christmas holidays. He turned in the opposite direction to the lift and made his way out onto the drive.

The night air was bitter, but it didn’t hit him with quite the force he’d been expecting. It wasn’t much colder outside than it had been inside, he supposed, even though he felt mostly numb to it all anyway. He wheeled his chair along the gravel, settling at the wall he’d once stood at beside Erik and unlocked a memory so beautiful from his mind. The countryside was beautiful, dotted with lights. The stars above him were beautiful too. He watched them, imagining they were all the minds in the world he felt when he entered Cerebro. The world, he thought, was such a brilliant place. There was such goodness deep within people – he saw it every day. And yet Cuba had changed him. And though he was getting better, though the children made him smile, he had days when he felt empty and full of despair too.

_Charles? What are you doing?_

He started at Erik’s voice projecting to him, turning his head to a lit window of the house. It wasn’t often anyone managed to surprise him, and yet Erik’s success rate trumped anyone else’s. Charles didn’t want to consider the reality that it was because he purposefully tried not to listen Erik was stood at the glass, watching him. He was too far away to determine his expression, though his projection certainly sounded concerned and irritated at the fact he was concerned.

 _I’m just getting some air. Go back to bed._ Charles sent in reply, failing miserably at not sounding bitter. He hoped Erik couldn’t see he was on the verge of tears. If he did, he could always pass it off as the cold.

 _I’m coming down._ Erik said firmly, already gone from the window.

Charles took the impossibly quick time it took Erik to travel down to the garden to dry his eyes and calm his mind. He wouldn’t be seen as weak. It was one thing to take comfort from his sister, but Erik was different. Erik had left him and only returned out of guilt- Raven, at least, had returned out of love.

When Erik joined him, he was silent for a moment, stood at Charles’ side. He could feel those steel eyes burning into his skull as if Erik was the one reading minds. He made an effort to keep his face flat because the moment he let any emotion onto his face, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from breaking down. The man then draped a thick, heavy blanket onto Charles’ lap.

“It’s December, Charles. What possessed you to come out at this time of night?”

Irritation rippled through him, and he choked it back. “I have no idea.” He replied dryly, gazing off into the distance still. He focused hard on the dark and the lights as though they were about to slip away from him, and it was easier than looking at Erik anyway. He’d been back at Westchester for a few months, and Charles had been pushing everything away for longer than that still.

“Why do you let me stay here?” Erik finally asked, his voice low and nervous. It was his eyes that betrayed more, when Charles turned his head to him sharply at the question. He hadn’t seen him look so very vulnerable in weeks. So many emotions poured from Erik, but the guilt was by far the strongest. It made Charles feel sick to the stomach, and he doubled his efforts not to see, not to hear anything.

“I’m sorry?”

“You should be screaming at me. You should have Hank and Alex escort me off the premises after they’ve beaten me unconscious!” Erik inhaled sharply, and his entire demeanour changed. The build-up of frustration dissipated, and he deflated visibly. “Every time you wake up screaming, I’m terrified that this is going to be the time you send me away. And there isn’t a damn thing I can think of to convince you otherwise.”

Confusion rippled through him, and Charles found he couldn’t look away now. Months of avoiding the issue; of polite conversation about the school and then avoiding each other as much as possible. Frankly, Charles no longer understood why Erik had returned. Raven was easier to wrap his head around; she was his sister and they’d never been apart. The issues they had- the mistakes that he’d made to drive her away in the first place- they would work them out. But Erik could survive perfectly well on his own, even without Raven. He had made it perfectly clear he didn’t trust Charles when he’d put that helmet on, so why he’d returned without it was beyond Charles. He had no intention of going looking for the answer.

“I assure you, Erik, you don’t have to stay here because you feel guilty. You don’t get to do that.”

“Guilt?!” Erik repeated, eyes wide.

“You think I don’t feel it?! You can barely look at me!” He caught his voice rising and stopped, taking a deep breath just as Erik had done before. He was suddenly tired of it all. He didn’t want to have this conversation. “Every time I have that nightmare, there’s a moment before I open my eyes when I think that maybe you’re going to be the one to comfort me this time. But you never come.”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

There it was again. That tentativeness that seemed so foreign in Erik. It was off-putting.

“Why are you here, Erik? Why did you come back? We both know you’re not content to just ghost around the mansion and think about all the terrible things you could be doing, instead of actually going out to do them.”

“Because if that’s all I can get to be around you then I _will_ be content with it, Charles. I came back because I missed you. Don’t doubt that.” Erik smiled briefly. “I haven’t handled things very well. I shouldn’t have kissed you without asking, and I shouldn’t have run away after. I’ve been rather afraid that you hate me.”

Charles almost smiled. Almost. His jaw clenched firmly in place, and he stiffened. “It’s December, and I’m cold.” He said quietly. “I think I can sleep now. Would you?” He gestured to the chair and, instantly, Erik waved a hand so that the metal chair moved forwards steadily.

“Of course, Charles.”

It wasn’t the end of their discussion by any means. In fact, Charles had rather a lot more he wanted to say, and he knew logically that those arguments would come to him instantly at any other time. But it was the middle of the night and he really was tired. Erik had come home without an ulterior motive; willing to delay his own goals for the sake of Charles’ forgiveness. That was worth Charles’ time, another time. For now, he had every confidence that if he had another dream of Cuba, Raven wouldn’t be the only attendant to his room.


End file.
